August 4th, 1990

August 4th, 1990
At home

Mum filled me in on the family drama that occurred in Scotland but said, regardless of what transpired, they managed to give Granda, “A lovely send off,” which was nice to hear.

“Tell me something funny, hen. I need a wee laugh.”
“I met Mel Gibson.”
“Ye did? In Hollywood?”
“No,” I laughed. “He was on our flight out to LA.”
“Fancy that, is he handsome?”
“Not really, I mean he’s not unpleasant to look at but he’s not very tall.”
“Is he no? He looks tall.”
“He’s about my height.”
“He must wear platforms in all those films,” she laughed. “Did you talk to him much?”
“Well, I went up to First Class to grab some biscuits for crew rest and while I was there I thought I’d pop into the loo.”
“Oh, I remember those First Class toilets with all the lovely smelly things, different world.”
“Certainly is. Anyway, he was standing outside the loo and he smiled and I smiled back but we didn’t speak. I knew I recognized him but I couldn’t place him so I went back into the galley to pick out some biscuits and I asked the First Class purser if the guy waiting outside the loo was crew.”
Mum let out a hearty laugh.
“I know, right? So, Johnnie smirked and whispered to me that it was Mel Gibson, which of course when he said it, made me realize why he looked so familiar. Anyway, I picked out a bunch of biscuits and stacked them on a plate, then Mel himself came into the galley.”
“Wit did he say?”
“You guys are having too much fun in here.”
“Wit else?”
“Johnnie told him I mistook him for crew and he, Mel, cracked up laughing, then he grabbed a biscuit off my plate and disappeared back through the curtain.”
“Mel Gibson stole my lassie’s biscuit,” mum shouted, cracking up laughing. “Oh, hen, that’s brilliant, wait ‘til you tell dad, he’ll love that. He likes those Mad, what are they called, Mad Rex films?”
“Mad Max.”
“Oh aye, they’re no my cup of tea but dad loves them.”
“Wait, there’s more.”
“Oh, go on.”
“Right before landing, Johnnie phoned and asked me to go up to the First Class galley and when I did, Mel was there. He handed me a page of First Class stationery with his autograph and…”
“D’ye have it?”
“Yeah, it’s in my bag somewhere. He said maybe in his next movie he’ll play a Flight Attendant, then he cracked up laughing and went back to his seat!”
“Oh, I love it!”
“Then, when I came out of the terminal with Mica, a lovely girl I was working down the back with, Mel walked past us, very nonchalantly with only a backpack, to a waiting car.”
“Was it a limousine?”
“No, it was actually beat up looking, you know the American station wagons with the wood panels on the side?”
“Oh aye, they’re auld.”
“Anyway, inside was a woman driving, who I assume to be his wife, and a ton of kids in the back.”
“He’s got quite a few kids.”
“That was probably them. Anyway, Mica stopped in her tracks and said, ‘Do you think that was Mel Gibson?’”
“Did you tell her you got his autograph?”
“No, I just said that bloke is too short to be Mel Gibson.”

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